


Slow Hands

by lotusgranger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, One-Shot, Rare Pair, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Slow Hands - Niall Horan, Smut, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 12:30:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12232866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotusgranger/pseuds/lotusgranger
Summary: The whole world wants a piece of Pansy. George is one-half of a whole. What happens when the two let their hands roam on Tuesday nights?





	Slow Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SingMeARareOSComp](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SingMeARareOSComp) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  Winner of the Best Use of a Song!   
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Slow Hands, by Niall Horan
> 
> 'Cause I want you bad, yeah I want you baby'
> 
> This piece is part of the Sing Me A Rare OS Competition Autumn 2017. I had a choice of song and one character which are "Slow Hands" by Niall Horan and Pansy Parkinson. The Admins of the group then randomly chose the other character or characters. All character, spells, magical equipment and locations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling.

_We should take this back to my place  
That's what she said right to my face_

Pansy trailed her fingers down George’s chest, hooking her fingers on his belt loops, pulling him closer to her as they swayed to the music.

_I've been thinking 'bout it all day  
And I hope you feel the same way, yeah._

Tuesdays were their day. Since Tarantella opened in Diagon Alley, the lonely and the horny had been drawn to the nightclub, drinking away their sorrows and dancing until their cares fell away. More often than not, they apparated away in pairs. But every Tuesday, Pansy took the lead.

“We should take this back to my place,” she whispered against his lips, leading his fingers beneath her skirt.

_'Cause I want you bad  
Yeah, I want you, baby,_

George wasn’t used to anyone wanting just him, to anyone choosing him. He had spent most of his life being “Fred and George,” being the second choice, and half of a pair. Since the Battle of Hogwarts, he’d been the punchline of a joke missing the set-up. He wasn’t just holey; he wasn’t whole. No one saw him as a whole.

 _No, no chance_  
_That I'm leaving here without you on me_  
_I, I know_  
_Yeah, I already know that there ain't no stopping_  
_Your plans and those_  
_Slow hands_  
_Slow hands_

Pansy was used to everyone wanting a piece of her. She was the slut of Slytherin, the girl who tried to give up Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy’s discarded goods, a pug-faced plaything. For a kiss, they’d pay a thousand galleons, but they’d pay 50 sickles for her soul.

George didn’t want a piece of her, he wanted all of her. He just wanted Pansy.

_I just wanna take my time  
We could do this, baby, all night, yeah_

His lips ghosted across her neck, making promises he’d spend all night keeping, just to repeat them next week. Achingly slowly, he slid his hand up her thigh, wrapping her leg around his hip. Her nails teased ghostlike behind his ear, teasing. Their bodies swayed to the thumping bassline.

_'Cause I want you bad  
Yeah, I want you, baby,_

A whimper escaped her throat as she threw her head back, arching into him as his fingers slid sensuously into her tight, wet heat.

_Slow, slow hands  
Like sweat dripping down our dirty laundry_

His tongue traced the droplet of sweat trailing down her collarbone, feeling her shiver.

_No, no chance  
That I'm leaving here without you on me_

“You’re mine, tonight,” she growled, pulling him into a deep kiss.

_I, I know_  
_Yeah, I already know that there ain't no stopping_  
_Your plans and those_  
_Slow hands_

George knew he was a goner. Every Tuesday, he forgot he was the mismatched sock left behind from a pair when he was buried inside Pansy. He knew no woman could fix the holes in his chest, but he kept going back to her.

_Fingertips puttin' on a show  
Got me now and I can't say no_

He was helpless to stop her from taking his hand and dragging him back to the alley. He was disconcerted with the role-reversal. Shouldn’t he be the one pushing her against the bricks, kissing her so hard she lost her breath?

_Wanna be with you all alone  
Take me home, take me home_

Shivering with desire, he begged her for more as her nimble hands unbuckled his belt, sliding down his zipper.

_Fingertips puttin' on a show_  
_Can't you tell that I want you, baby, yeah_

  
Hissing, he turned them around, pressing her back into the rough brick as her fingers closed around his weeping cock. She stroked him with an insolence that betrayed their ratcheting desire, gripping him firmly and teasing him with the slow pace.

_Slow hands_  
_Like sweat dripping down our dirty laundry_  
_No, no chance_  
_That I'm leaving here without you on me_

“My place, or yours?” he gasped, knees wobbling.

_I, I know_  
_Yeah, I already know that there ain't no stopping_  
_Your plans and those slow hands_  
_Yeah, those slow hands_  
_Woo, slow hands_

He groaned into her shoulder as he came in her hand, feeling her tuck him back into his jeans. Her nails raked deep and with purpose across his chest, tracing her initials into his skin.

“Mine.”


End file.
